


Dirty Laundry

by MariaSpade



Series: Human!AU [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Construction Worker Dean, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Human Castiel, Librarian Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaSpade/pseuds/MariaSpade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas' day off all on his own proves to be a little more than he can handle in the form of the most dangerous of chores- laundry. Part of the Human!AU but can be read separately</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Laundry

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Human!AU I have going, although can be read completely separate.

It is one of those days-that-happen-too-often. It is a day Dean hates. It is the day Dean hates the most, and it is the day he and Cas must part in the morning. Monday. This Monday, Cas has taken off to get some things done around the house, but Dean already called out of work a week ago and cannot afford to do so again. So with a heavy heart, at nine o’clock sharp in the morning, Dean presses a kiss to his husband’s lips and mumbles a good bye. Cas gives a forgiving and content smile, taking the front of his husband’s shirt and pulling him in for another kiss.  
“One for the road,” he explains with that funny little smile of his that Dean loves too much for his own good. “I’ll see you in four hours. I’m looking forward to that lunch break already.” He reaches a hand up and rubs it against Dean’s stubbled cheek. It’s rough beneath his fingers, warm, and it makes the pads of his fingers tingle pleasantly. Dean just grumbles again.  
“I’m taking an hour today, don’t you dare get any funny ideas, I can’t be late when I punch back in,” he says, and his voice is rough, like he’s trying to be serious with Castiel, but the way his hand reaches up to capture his husband’s against his cheek just tells Cas he isn’t serious, and he’ll never punch back in from lunch if Cas only says the word.  
“I’ll be on my best behaviour,” the blue-eyed angel of a man promises, reaching up on tip toe to press a kiss to his husband’s lips again. “I’m going to try to get stuff done around here today anyway. No time for messing around with beautiful men until they come home to me at five sharp and let me rub their shoulders until I have them pinned under me in bed.”  
“Is having beautiful men in your bed something that happens often?” Dean asks, and his smile is back, and he’s all the more happy to head off to work when he knows someone is waiting for him back at home.  
“Every moment of every day, if I had it my way,” Cas replies, and he presses a kiss to that stubbly cheek and shoos Dean out the door with many, many rushed I Love Yous and Dean blowing the most ridiculous, overly dramatic kisses Cas has ever had his heart stopped by.  
They are happy, Cas remembers when he steps back in the house to get started on some chores. Yes, he has to remember this, because he usually gets so swept up in all the romance and dinners together and sex and the love and all the happiness, that sometimes, Cas just forgets there’s a word for it. Happy. One word. He thinks it’s silly that someone could try to pin a word on all these things they feel for each other, how they are together. But he supposes if there had to be just one word, it would be happy. He starts with vacuuming, because Dean works as a construction worker, and he brings all sorts of dirt and small pebbles and rocks into their home no matter how many times Cas has asked him to take his shoes off at the door. (Meanwhile, Cas is a quiet librarian, who often tries to take the 9-4 shift so he and Dean can run on the same schedule and be out the door and back in it around the same time every day.) The vacuum makes all sorts of noises as it sucks up all the dirt on the bottom floor, and it is over an hour later by the time he is done with just this. Upstairs might just have to wait for later.  
Next he polishes the furniture and cleans the kitchen, and at noon he heads out the door to meet Dean, sending him a text when he is sitting outside the construction zone gate so Dean doesn’t have to waste any of his hour waiting for Cas to come. They get to spend the whole time together this way. Cas takes him to the diner up the street, and they are in and out in twenty minutes, and spend the next half hour sitting in their small car in the parking lot with their tongues down each other’s throat. It is cozy and familiar and domestic and Cas loves it. But the time comes that Dean has to get back to work, and they part quite reluctantly outside the construction zone gate, while Dean’s construction friends wolf whistle at him and Dean’s hands get a little too grabby for public and Cas has to shoo them away with a pretty pink blush to his cheeks.  
When Cas returns home it is nearly two now, and he sighs. His least favorite part of chores is the laundry, but he has already cleaned the kitchen and vacuumed downstairs, so it is either laundry or the bathrooms, and if he whines enough and gives Dean a really, really good blow job the moment he gets home, he can get Dean to clean the bathrooms after dinner (and the blow job). He trudges upstairs with a sigh, his footsteps heavy, and God he really, really hates doing laundry. While he pulls out the laundry basket and fills it properly with all the clothes Dean has left around the room and on the closet floor, he thinks about (who else) Dean. His husband. Dean Winchester. His man who is all hands and roughness and beer and steak and pie and cologne and leather and they had a lovely lunch today, and he doesn’t honestly mind that much when Dean gets touchy when they’re out in public, he just doesn’t think they are a show for other people to see, and he also knows the first time he came around to pick Dean up from work for lunch, those construction friends of his though he was a woman with short hair because he can be very small in stature when he’s wearing his library clothes, usually sweaters and sweater vests and dark, dull colors and Dean almost pissed himself laughing so hard when he came home to tell Cas all his friends had asked him who the new girl was. (At the time they had been dating about a month, and he supposed he could still be considered a new ‘thing’, but not a girl dammit.) He thinks about silly things when he’s doing mundane tasks like laundry or checking in returned books or helping children pick a new book series to read, but it makes the time spent without Dean go faster.  
He hauls the basket of their laundry downstairs into the kitchen and to the back of the kitchen where a door that never gets closed leads to the small and cramped laundry room. Really there’s just enough space in there for the washer, dryer, and two bottles of detergent and fabric softener. When the machines are running, the smell of detergent and fresh laundry leaks into the kitchen, and Cas almost can’t stand to cook when he’s surrounded by the smell of artificial spring and ‘waterfalls’, as it reads on the container. Dean always helps him though, and it’s really hard not to get a meal on the table when his gorgeous husband is all hands on his hips and laughing quietly in his ear and helping him cook. It has only been a year or so into their marriage, two years into them being together, but Cas hopes what they have will last forever. (Dean proposed after one short year together that passed in a whirlwind of sex and love and colors and Cas said yes so fast he thinks that must have knocked Dean off his feet faster than the bone crushing hug that came next from his smaller man. The wedding was a whole month later, because there was no use waiting through months and months of preparation when they both knew what kind of wedding they wanted, who would come, and who would not.) He loves his Dean, all six foot one inch of him, all his leather jackets and rough hands and silly smiles and dumb date ideas. He has a smile on his lips by the time he’s pouring in the detergent, and seems to miss the mark on the dispenser that read liquid detergent should not be poured past this point, and fills it right up to the top, all the way where it says powder detergent should not be filled past this point, and then another inch. He shuts the dispenser and hums as he set the controls for a warm rinse and half hour long cycle. He turns the laundry room light off, and with a smile figures by the time the load is done to be put in the dryer, Dean will be home.  
It has been a hard three or so hours after Cas left, but Dean has made it through. He’s always happy to have that break in the middle of the day when he can see his husband; it makes the rest of the day that more bearable between tearing walls down and building new ones. He walks home, because it’s a beautiful day and home is only a mile away from the construction site they are on. He is happy to be headed home, as easy of a day as it was, he’s still spent it away from his husband. What a hard life they lead, he thinks with a chuckle, where their greatest struggle was being parted for seven hours. His key jangles noisily as he unlocked the front door, just a precaution they take since they live in the city. He closes the front door and is immediately greeted with silence. Usually the moment he walks in the door he’s at least greeted by a hello, if not a kiss. (Every other day or so Cas will get caught up at the library an extra twenty minutes or so and Dean will be left waiting for Cas and he likes it that way, too, he likes greeting Cas as he walks through the door after a day that promises to be hellish.)  
“Cas?” he calls out into the home, a little confused and maybe worried as well. No sounds greet him. Perhaps he stepped out for groceries or something, but he would always text Dean before heading out, and Dean has no new text messages on his phone.  
“Cas?” he tries again, and this time a noise greets him. It is something Dean is only used to hearing in bed and when he gets too touchy in public and Cas has to tell him to stop. It is distant, from the back of the house, and a little arousing but he isn’t sure if it’s meant to be like that.  
“Dean.” It is a whine, a high pitched whine Cas makes usually when Dean has done something very right in bed, but last he checked they were not in bed, and as far as he knows he is still standing in the front foyer.  
“Cas?” he calls out again, taking a few steps into the house.  
“Dean,” comes the voice again, and it isn’t aroused, but wholly distressed, more like when Dean gets touchy in public than when he gets touchy in bed. It’s coming from in the kitchen and Dean is there is three seconds flat. He has to take a few steps back when he gets there, because there is a mess that spills out from the laundry room into the kitchen and has seeped across the floor. It’s all bubbles and it smells like spring, fake spring like the kind that comes in a box, and Dean can only guess what has happened here, but he has a pretty good idea.  
“Cas…” His voice is quiet, disbelieving. “What in the world…?”  
“I don’t know,” Cas whines, and he’s standing off to the side, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and already covered knee deep in bubbles and soap and suds and if Dean didn’t know better he might be even a little more aroused, but there is little Cas does that doesn’t get him going, and right now he is thinking of his husband covered in bubbles when they are in the tub together, and Cas is fond of bubble baths perhaps more so than he ought to be, but Dean loves it, and that’s what he’s thinking about right now because he apparently doesn’t know any better.  
“What happened, sweetheart?” Dean asks, carefully making his way around the mess, but he doesn’t know where to. Paper towels will not clean this mess up. Neither will a mop, that might just make it worse.  
“I added too much detergent to the wash,” Cas whines, throwing his hands up in frustration, and he looks so lost and hopeless right now that Dean can only wonder what is so important about laundry that has gotten Cas to this point.  
Dean makes his way around to the back door leading to the backyard through the kitchen and opens it up. A fresh breeze comes in, and that disturbs a few of the bubbles, but not enough to make any difference. “Alright, sweetheart, no big deal,” he murmurs, and maybe they will just have to push as much of the suds out the back door as they can and he’ll hose them away.  
“But Dean,” he says, and he is still whining, and he’d better be careful because Dean is prone to hitting things that make Cas whine and cry when it isn’t him pleasuring his husband. And he doesn’t think that would go over very well with the mess on the floor. “I was so excited to get the laundry done, and as soon as you got home I was going to give you a blow job and ask you to clean the bathrooms for me, and we were going to have dinner and watch TV and make love, and now we’re going to be cleaning this up instead.” And he sounds so lost and confused and distressed that Dean again wonders how the washing machine dares to do this to his poor husband who was just trying to have an easy day off. Not to mention at least two of the things Castiel has said has really caught his attention.  
“Hey, hey, baby, come on, it’s alright, it’s a little mess is all,” he assures, and he figures he will be knee deep in bubbles anyway while they are cleaning, so he is quick to Cas’ side to give him a reassuring hug that turns into more when Cas collapses against him with a whine and Dean has to hold both of them up.  
“Our night is ruined,” the blue eyed angel of a man insists against his husband’s chest, quiet and mumbled and all too distressed for the reality of what’s at hand.  
“Our night is set back maybe a half an hour,” Dean presses, running his fingers through Cas’ hair because he knows the other man likes when he does that. “That’s all it will take to clean up, and then we can go about our night and all the wonderful things you said we’ll do, and I’ll clean both the bathrooms and we’ll settle in for the night and just enjoy each other like we always do. It’s just a little bump in the road is all, sweetheart.”  
Cas whines again but that’s all he does, and he picks up his head from his husband’s chest and looks up at him with eyes that ask ‘Really? You promise?’ and Dean simply nods and his husband pulls away and sighs. “Alright. We’ll clean this up and I’ll run the wash through again with just warm water and you clean the bathrooms while I make dinner.”  
“Now I could have sworn there was something extra in there for me,” Dean croons with a little smile, because Cas’ blow jobs are the honest to God best, and he is not missing out on that now that he’s been told he was supposed to get one before the washing machine decided to have a fit.  
“After we clean up,” Cas promises, squeezing at Dean’s broad shoulders that warm his fingertips and remind him why his husband is such a catch.  
“Promise?” he asks, and his smile is bright and hopeful and who is Cas to deny a beautiful man like this one anything he wants?  
“Promise,” Cas says, mirroring his smile. And he does, after they clean up and have fun throwing suds at each other, Cas takes him to the living room and sits him down on the couch and gives Dean the most mind blowing orgasm he’s had since last night and the most blind blowing orgasm he’ll have until approximately ten that night when they go to bed together and Cas promises him he was planning on making love tonight anyway and no, it isn’t too much to ask him to ride and Dean if you don’t stop smiling I’m going to kiss you until you can’t breathe and I swear you’re going to be the death of me and he’s okay with that, he really is.


End file.
